Remember the Butterfly
by Little Tanuki
Summary: Sequel to “Butterfly Dreaming”. 2376, Deep Space Nine. Julian and Amy are reunited. But she is not the only old acquaintance to emerge from his past.
1. So it Begins

**Author's Note**: _This is a sequel. It could most likely stand alone but my thoughts are that it would be a better experience if you take the hour or so to read the first _Butterfly_ story._

_The following tale came to fruition with thanks to those who were kind enough to leave reviews for _Butterfly Dreaming. _Jumana P. (who suggested the teenage years), Lilith Kayden (for giving me that final nudge to start), MuseUrania, and Valadan._

_This one's for you guys!! (And everyone else too - Just a bit of fun, really.) _:-)

**

* * *

**

2376, Deep Space Nine

Sighing heavily, but secretly, Julian squirmed - and paused to adjust the collar of his uniform. Again. There was something about that day, perhaps. It didn't matter how many times he tugged down the hem of his jacket, pulled at his sleeves, or shifted his collar until it started to chafe against his neck. Nothing he was wearing would ever stay quite comfortable.

The Security office had maintained enough of a dark, foreboding air over the years to discourage the desire for long-term visits. Certainly, the prevailing atmosphere was a near perfect match for his mood. Feeling caged, he glanced warily from one pair of granite-brown eyes to the other. But the women offered nothing in return, save for a pair of pale, stone-edged stares.

Ro leaned forward a little, crossing her hands in front of her and setting them upon the desk that had once been Constable Odo's. She watched as though intending to stare the answers from him before he'd even had a chance to speak. Not far behind her, back pressed against the wall although never to the extent that he could ever accuse her of slouching, Kira was the one whose eyes Julian finally sought.

_The beginning_, she had told him. _Start at the beginning_. And that was what he intended to do, as soon as he could discover what had happened to his voice.

They'd known each other long enough, after all. If anyone would understand… But there was nothing to be found beyond her silence. Her eyes were hard, and afforded no more room to manoeuvre than Ro's had done. Still, seeking the safe harbour he was never likely to find, Julian clenched and unclenched his hands and forced yet another deep, calming breath. He would have to take his own cue this time.

"We're waiting, Doctor."

He nodded in response to Ro's tight rebuke, swiftly replaying the events of the previous week, checking that there was nothing he had missed. His memory was as clear as it had ever been - possibly even clearer. Faces flashed before him like characters in a holo-drama as he tried without much success to locate the exact point where it might have started. Had it been merely days ago, perhaps, or should he take them back still further - to the playground in London and the gawky seven year old he had once thought himself to be?

With another sigh, he rubbed his eyes, and adjusted the hem of his too-tight jersey. And then, after a final glance at their hard, expectant stares, Julian Bashir opened his mouth and finally began to speak.

* * *

**2376, The Beginning**

_Rather peculiar, isn't it_? thought Julian, as he rubbed the back of his aching neck. Until that moment, he had not even noticed how sore it had become. Not on such a busy Friday morning with its ceaseless stream of routine check-ups, minor casualties… not to mention paperwork.

He was thankful that there had not been anything too serious. But the traffic through the infirmary had never seemed to stop. The station's Chief Medical Officer was beginning to ask himself if he would ever find the relative quiet of a research lab. And there were still all those reports due to Starfleet Medical within the week. It would not be long before he'd have to drag people in - possibly even start making threats…

_Lunch first._

There was always the Replimat, he supposed. But that was far too bright and exposed. And he was hardly in the mood for anything that had maintained its habit of squirming between his fingers. That ruled out the Klingon restaurant. So - it was a far from perfect alternative that day, but he elected to find himself a quiet, dark corner of Quark's. Possibly somewhere close to the stairs, where he could use the stairwell as a shield against the excitable chorus of dabo players and the gathering throng of rowdier afternoon patrons.

As soon as he reached his table, Julian decided, he would fall into one of the chairs and allow the ache across his shoulders to pass. Grateful that there was never such a great distance to cover, he already found himself imagining how welcome the barely illuminated space would be. And if he was lucky, he might even get a chance to close his eyes and imagine himself alone.

The notion was extinguished before he'd even had a chance to approach. A wall of noise exploded outwards through the open doors like uncontained plasma, and the muscles along Julian's back were immediately tense as he stood and surveyed the gathering crowd. Perhaps it would be easier to try the replicator in his quarters. There was no quiet lunch to be found at Quark's that day.

The ambient light inside the bar was always dimmer than it was outside on the Promenade, but Julian did not fail to notice the distinctively bulbous outline of Morn, seated at his regular place by the bar. And standing close by was the silhouette of Quark the bartender - his unmistakeable cranium large even by Ferengi standards. He was busy, rushing as usual, and half-shouting at his customers in a voice that failed to reach the doctor's ears.

Julian sighed, quietly resigned. Perhaps he could get to the Replimat after all. He could always carry whatever he happened to order back to the office with him. Might even save it for later…

"Excuse me," said an elderly voice at his side. Somebody brushed past him, close enough for their shoulders to touch, and Julian dodged apologetically out of the way.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

He caught a glance from the same old man - almost too brief to notice, but long enough to make him hesitate - and frown. The shadowed grey eyes that stared back at him also seemed to pause, and Julian wondered if it was the lighting that was giving the old stranger's face that odd, viridian hue. Flashing a smile in the old man's direction, which failed to hide his newly troubled expression, he nodded once and stepped to one side of the door.

As the stranger turned, Julian quickly found that his gaze was drifting back towards the interior, where Quark had only just seemed to notice this latest newcomer. The Ferengi started, mouth open in a broad, yellow toothed grin, and set his tray upon the bar.

_Get to the Replimat_, Julian reminded himself forcefully. _Otherwise you'll be hungry all day_. He wondered why he had not already started to retrace his steps. But with the approach of this stranger, he had felt his instincts sharpen as though pulled by some invisible chord. Ducking surreptitiously behind one side of the entrance, he peered around its edge and continued to watch their exchange. If the continuous stream of customers had noticed him at all, they weren't saying so.

As surely as he now clasped the door frame, Julian was holding his breath. He found himself gripped by a sudden, inexplicable unease as Quark skirted around the moving crowd to greet this peculiar newcomer. Even without a way to locate the source of his own apprehension, he held onto one small certainty. The Ferengi bartender had been expecting this meeting. And when Quark was this happy to see someone he barely knew, it could only mean trouble for everybody else.


	2. Old Ghosts Return

As the old man brought to a conclusion whatever dialogue he'd been engaged in with Quark, Julian slipped around the door and cut a path through the gathering crowd. Clusters of people glanced his way, occasionally shifting to one side as he directed himself towards the newly vacated seat.

"Doctor!" the smaller man enthused. Light reflected in shades of white and crimson across his bulbous forehead, and his grin returned tenfold as he mopped up a puddle of spilt liquor from the gleaming surface of his bar. "Always a pleasure to have you here. How can I be of service?"

Julian leaned forward, his own gaze even more intent than Morn's. "You can start by telling me who that was just now."

"Who was what?" Quark glanced around the throng of customers just beyond the doctor's shoulder, and toyed with the rag in both orange-tinted hands.

"Quark…"

"Oh, _him_. You mean Emanon." The Ferengi shrugged. Rotating just slightly to the left, Morn stared for a moment before turning back to the drink he'd clasped in one enormous paw. But when Quark looked back, his expression was one of carefully calculated innocence. "What can I tell you? He's no-one, really. Just a friend of a friend… of my cousin Gaila."

The last four words were quiet, indistinct, mumbled a little too quickly as though in an attempt to let them slip past Julian's hearing.

"Gaila?" he repeated. Hearing the name did nothing to lessen a slow, squirming apprehension that was gradually uncoiling in the pit of his stomach. "Wasn't that the same cousin who was trafficking weapons through Deep Space Nine barely two and a half years ago?"

Quark stepped back as if to withdraw - or possibly even recoil - from a quietly civil battle. His steel blue eyes now studied the taller man with open suspicion. "Are you sure you're not really a changeling in disguise?" he lisped.

Huffing quietly, Julian expelled himself from the barstool and made for the exit. _Hew-mon _or not, the sound that came forth from deep inside his chest would have made for a more than passable Odo.

"I've got work to do."

* * *

DS9's operations centre was far more easy and subdued on that day than the bustling hub of Julian's infirmary had been. He hadn't been at all sure that he would ever find the chance to visit. But a lull in his workload had continued into the early afternoon, allowing him time to journey up through the arteries of the station, and into its equally familiar heart.

Ezri Dax looked up from her place at the back console, watching the lift slow to a halt with Julian still inside it. Her short, dark hair was slightly ruffled, he noted with some amusement. Either she had been too distracted that morning to do anything about it, or she had worked it into that restless state throughout the course of the day.

Swinging a little as he pushed himself from the rail, Julian stepped forward into the open room. He found himself reciprocating the fullness of her open smile, even as it brought a new-found levity to his step. "You're awfully cheerful today," he commented playfully.

"All the more for seeing you. _Finally_."

"All right. I confess." Julian raised both hands in surrender. "It was a busy morning. I'm sorry I couldn't have joined you earlier."

Reaching up to wrap both arms around his shoulders, Ezri planted a brief but welcome kiss upon his lips. Her expression had taken a decidedly quirky turn. "Very well," she said. "All is forgiven. So what brings you all the way up to call on us mere mortals?"

"Reminders," he told her, wishing briefly that he could have found a happier excuse to venture up to Ops. "Annual reports to Starfleet Medical are due any day now. Or have _you _forgotten as well?"

"With the number of times you've already told me?" Dax teased, and then conceded with mock formality. "Very well, Doctor. Always happy to oblige."

Julian could not have prevented the tiny chuckle that escaped from the back of his throat, even if he had wanted to. "If only everyone was this easy to convince."

"I'll offer you a struggle if you really want one." And then Ezri dropped her voice to a whisper. "But I just thought it was better to set a good example, especially with everybody watching us like they are."

One or two people grimaced in an unsuccessful effort to hide their smiles, but others continued to grin and stare. A pair of nearer officers coughed under their breaths, and shied away from the sudden revelation that they'd been thwarted in their attempts to eavesdrop.

Partly to distract himself from the pressure of their open stares, Julian allowed his gaze to drift up stairs, to the slightly darkened office of the station commander. He stepped forward, suddenly curious and wishing that he could carry out a little subtle spying of his own. Kira Nerys was seated at her place behind the large, black desk, talking to a pair of new arrivals in loose-fitting civvies, both seated at the visitors' end, their outlines clearly visible through the transparent, geometric panes.

"Pity you were never at lunch with us," Ezri accused before he could even ask. "You would have been quite interested in some of the stories they had to tell."

"Who are they?"

"Researchers from a ship that docked here earlier this morning." She shifted her position to stand beside - and half a step behind - her slightly darker companion. "They're on their way to one of those ecology expeditions heading for the edge of the Badlands. You know how the Federation Council's been talking about sending people for months already by now? Well - now they finally have."

"Scientists?" Julian turned to glance her way, but with yet another unasked question clear behind his eyes.

"The one on the right is Professor M'Pel." Ezri nodded to indicate a tall, raven-haired Vulcan woman. Julian looked, wondering yet again how it was that Vulcans managed to sit so stiffly for so long without doing irreparable damage to their spinal column. "And the other's name is…"

Her brow furrowed slightly. "…Dowling. That's right. Professor Dowling. Come on - I'll introduce you."

She started to move forward, but Julian discovered that he was hesitating. His toes curled as though to grip the floor beneath, legs suddenly heavy and reluctant to take a step. Professor Dowling was not particularly tall - certainly not with the commanding presence of her Vulcan comrade - but hers was the face that grabbed his attention. Her hair was cut short around her ears, slightly brown, but fine enough that it could once have been blonde. Occasional dry wisps escaped in a cloud from where it hardly seemed able to keep itself in place.

At a signal from Kira, both scientists turned towards the exit - where the doors slid open automatically at their approach. Professor Dowling was slower to rise than either of the other two women, but first to descend the stairs into Ops. Her smile was broad and open, although possibly a little timid at the edges, and her eyes were shaded although the brows that arched above them were barely distinguishable from her pale, slightly dusky skin. But her own gaze locked immediately with Julian's.

"Ah," said the dark-haired Bajoran captain as soon as she noticed the most recent arrival. There was a clear glimmer behind her eyes, as though she was deep in some conspiracy with the universe, and the smile she cast down towards him bore a promise of mischief. Turning to the visiting scientists, Kira held out a hand to indicate the young man standing below.

"Here's someone I'm sure would be fascinated to hear about your latest research efforts. Professor Dowling, Professor M'Pel. Our Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Julian Bashir…"

The younger of the two women paused, and failed to hold back a sudden gasp. Her blue eyed stare was fixed upon him. But she cast it deliberately to one side at almost the instant she realised that he was looking back up at her.

From the corner of his eye, Julian noticed that Ezri's smile had turned to a pensive frown. She was staring too, releasing her hold on him only just long enough to glance up at the other strangely silent Human.

"I… I'm sorry. I just remembered, I… er… I _do _have a lot to be getting on with today. Erm… Excuse me." Fighting to conceal a rush of heat just beneath his skin, Julian forced a smile and almost tripped over the slightly uneven border of the turbolift in his haste to stumble back inside.


	3. Memories are Reflections

**2357, Paris**

The entire change room was well ventilated, conditioned with a never-ending cycle of freshly replicated air - atoms shuffled, re-oxygenated, infused with a subtle odour-masking perfume, and regurgitated into the atmosphere. But even this did little to conceal a constant smell of airborne sweat. None of those present had any particular complaints. Softly distinctive - it was the scent of sports rooms everywhere. It spoke of trials overcome and conquests made. The surroundings would not have been the same without it.

Five boys sat at one end of the room, laughing raucously as they rubbed the hours of exertion from their skin and hair. The room resounded at uneven intervals with the sound of their competing teenage shouts. "Winning isn't everything," one of them reminded his team mates. They laughed at his naïveté.

"Whole lot better than losing though, mind," responded another.

Julian allowed his thoughts to drift a little beyond the conversation going on around him. Winning _was _good, he reflected with the tiniest of secret smiles. He picked up a pile of abandoned clothes from the seat beside him, and set it in his lap as he parted the lips of his grey-white sports bag.

"And as for our very own champion, _Mister _Jules Bashir--" An arm was suddenly around his neck, one clenched hand ruffling his short, dark hair. Jorge de la Cruz tugged him backwards, and Julian grunted at the sudden, unexpected pressure. "You tell us what that move was you made today, or you'll never make it out of this room."

"How about I just show you later?" Wriggling free of the larger teen's grasp, Julian pushed himself further along the bench. There was acid in his stare, but only in good jest. If only he could believe as easily as the others that his victory had been genuine. He'd considered quitting his high school tennis team, come as close as raising his hand to ring the bell outside the coach's office, but had lowered it again and walked away.

Jorge redirected his gaze towards Julian's half-open bag. With the reflexes of a cat, one hand shot forward to snatch a half-exposed padd from the bag's jumbled contents. "What's that you got there?"

The boy jumped backwards and out of reach, before turning his attention to the padd and its contents. "_Fundamental Principles of Integrated Exo-Genetics_. You read this stuff for fun?"

"Why? You interested?"

Two of their team-mates were smiling. A third was struggling not to.

Jorge expelled a good natured snort. "What do _you _think?"

At this, Julian's brows raised sharply. It was not an unfamiliar routine for either of them. "Well, unless you have a particular desire to listen to my opinion on the latest innovations in mitochondrial sequencing, I suggest you give that back." He held out one hand, palm upwards, and his friend slapped the padd onto it. The sound reverberated for just a few more moments around the high-ceilinged room.

"You know, if you're really _that _stuck for reading material…"

"What makes you think I'm stuck?" Julian challenged him.

A soft chuckle rose from the other boy's chest. "So. You coming?"

"I'll catch up with you," responded Julian.

Listening to the voices of his friends as they retreated along the outer corridor, he was briefly distracted by the speckled texture of the thick band of material still pulled tightly around his wrist. How could he have considered giving up? he asked himself. If he had left the tennis team, then there would have been nothing left to stop him from quitting so many more of his favourite past-times. And where would it stop after that? Besides, if he'd come forward to claim that he no longer wanted to play, even had he pretended to have lost all interest, his coach would most certainly have wanted to know why…

Suddenly, without warning, he found himself gripped by a heated rage, so tight that he could barely manage a breath. He clutched the padd in one hand, palms and knuckles aching with the tension, and half shoved, half tossed it into the farthest corner of his bag.

He sat for a moment, panting slightly against the constriction in his chest, and gradually more aware that his face had twisted itself into a fearsome scowl, eyes now prickling with a rising film of tears.

"Oh. Uh…"

There was a girl at one end of the lockers, watching him a little stiffly, with both hands wrapped around her elbows. Her left foot scraped repeatedly along the same patch of hard, carpeted floor, and a strand of dusky hair had drifted loose from a high ponytail at the back of her head.

"Can I help you?"

"Um… No." the girl began nervously. The same restless foot rubbed up and down her opposite shin. But then she looked up. "I saw you. Back there. You were really good."

"Thank you." Julian glanced towards her. He managed to hide a pensive frown, but his fingers continued to pluck at the rough weave of his wristband. "I'm sorry, but… Were you looking for someone?"

The stranger shook her head, brushing back her wayward threads of ash-blonde hair. "Not really. But thanks anyway." With a shy parting smile, she retreated through the door.

* * *

**2376, Deep Space Nine**

His mind instantly overflowing with more questions than he had answers, Julian hurried back into the turbolift and barely heard his own voice say, "Promenade."

Impossible. He allowed his own body to rock with every small movement, as the lift sped away and out of sight. It couldn't have been simple co-incidence. Could it? Faces from childhood were apt to fade, certainly. People stopped thinking about the ghosts of their past, until the images slipped from memory like voices fading into darkness. But there were always those who would never completely disappear.

"Halt turbolift." A sudden, breathy gasp surged forward from behind his voice. He gripped the rail so tightly that it dug into his hands, as the lift jerked to a sudden stop.

"No name…" he whispered, shoulders hunched apprehensively as though to shield himself from the drop of a sudden weight. "It's 'no name' spelt backwards."

A puzzle was taking shape. At that moment, he was certain, and he didn't want to look at the picture it revealed. But there was no longer any doubt, he _had _known that man at Quark's. His name was not - and never _had _been _- _Emanon.

It was Badin.

_Badin Fen_.


	4. Portents and Shadows

"Julian?" Ezri's voice was close by his ear, just as he'd supposed it would be before long. He kept his back to her for a moment longer, gathering his energy for the confrontation he knew was soon to come. There was nothing particularly unusual on the monitor in front of him - just the routine blood test results of one of the younger ensigns who'd come in that morning and left ten minutes later. But Julian took some care to pause the display before finally turning around.

"Oh. Hello." Casting her a roughly fashioned smile, he reached forward and blanked the screen. "Just give me a moment to finish up here."

But when he glanced her way again, Ezri's gaze was cold and demanding - her arms folded rigidly across her breast.

Julian slumped, elbows against his knees, and rubbed one side of his head until he felt the static of it gather in his hair. "I know." The day's anxieties were just as suddenly drained from his too-tight muscles, leaving him feeling tired and empty. "It was rude of me to leave like that. I know, and I'm sorry."

Ezri shook her head, dark brows gathered towards a series of creases directly above her nose. "It's not that," she told him. "What was really going on back there?"

His attempt at an indifferent shrug felt stiff and forced, even to him. "I… Not much. It's been a busy day, that's all. I had a lot to do."

"That doesn't work with me, Julian. I know you too well."

Another sigh forced its way into the air. He leaned against the back of his seat, listening to the succession of barely audible clicks as his neck bones released a little more of their accumulated strain. With his right hand thumb and forefinger, he rubbed a dull ache from the muscles around his eyes, and blinked away the pressure circles before readying himself to glance again at Dax.

"Ezri, do you believe in premonitions?"

Her frown deepened. "Premonitions? What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Nothing - it's stupid." He swivelled away once more.

But Ezri did not leave him be. Without a word, she was suddenly at his side, her smaller, paler hand now sharply defined as it rested across his own. Her voice when she spoke was close and hushed - although not quite a whisper. "Tell me."

Julian hesitated. Where to begin?

"Does this have something to do with those scientists in the captain's office?" Ezri asked.

Seeing that the doctor was staring mutely at a carefully ordered array of bio-samples, she persevered. "Just one scientist?"

Julian said nothing, and Dax leaned forward, staring openly as if to study his thoughts like a picture. "Professor Dowling?"

Julian looked back with a startled gasp, now frowning just as deeply the woman beside him. But then he nodded. "Amy Dowling," he whispered. "That was her name, wasn't it?"

"Well I only heard her mention it once or twice at lunch, but that sounds about right…" The pale Trill's eyes narrowed in thoughtful concentration, until her present companion began to worry that the tension would be enough to give her a headache. But then her expression shifted as she gradually, finally, connected the questions in her head to memories. "Amy… Wasn't that a friend of yours?"

Julian nodded meaningfully.

"And you think that Professor Dowling…?"

Another quiet, definitive nod.

Ezri laughed, the sound almost irritable in its acidity. "Then you're old friends! How is _that _a problem?"

"Badin's here too."

"Badin…"

"Ezri - I _did _tell you about him." Julian fought to contain a mounting tide of frustration. His face was hot with the sudden rush of blood beneath. "He's on the station. Now. I saw him at Quark's today. Less than an hour before…"

He shook his head, noting that the warmth of Ezri's hand around his had tightened a little. "Something just feels wrong here. _Too _wrong. It isn't even that long since I started thinking about that whole business again. And for Amy _and _Badin to show up in a single day? After all this time? It can't be simple co-incidence."

"Is there any reason why not?" Ezri challenged him.

Julian snorted. "Do you realise the odds?"

"No, but I'm guessing you're about to tell me."

"But that's not the point, is it?" Raising his hands despairingly to the ceiling, he dropped them almost immediately to his side, and propelled himself from the chair. He noticed with some annoyance that he had started to pace, back and forth along the length of the infirmary office. "The point is… is…"

_Is what_?

"Julian…" Clasping his forearm, Ezri snatched his attention back towards the expression on her face. There was something oddly calming about her clear blue eyes, at least enough to stop the agitated pacing. "You know as well as I do, people create whatever connections they like from the faces of strangers. We can't possibly say for sure that Professor Dowling _is _the same Amy. And we certainly don't know that the man you saw was Badin."

Julian watched in silence, allowing just as much time as it took her to finish. But slowly, and equally quietly, he shook his head. "_I_ know."

Ezri lowered her gaze and took a short backward step. Julian could see from her lingering frown, and from the way her front teeth brushed against the corner of her lower lip - she was not convinced. But neither was she going to continue trying to press her point. "Then, assuming you're right," she concluded, once again looking his way. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I…" Julian stopped, suddenly more uncertain than he had been all day. That _was_ the real issue, wasn't it? A prudent man would most likely take the matter to Security, but if his own lover barely believed him, then what chance would he have with Constable Ro? He scratched one side of his head, returning to his place at the console.

"I don't know," he confessed. "I need time to think about this, Ezri. Perhaps…" He sighed, allowing his voice to fade to nothing.

_Perhaps you're right_, he'd been about to say. _Perhaps it really _is_ just a co-incidence_. But co-incidence had never been an easy thing to believe in, even then.

* * *

Julian's quarters were far too warm that night, and the space around his bed felt even warmer. He'd spent much of the evening tossing about - never quite reaching the point of sleep and yet never fully awake - tangling his sheets around him until dark, mocking, and barely remembered dreams seemed to set them up to strangle him where he lay.

Finally, with the beginnings of a startled cry, his eyes opened to the sight of the same familiar yet slightly menacing walls. Groaning, he rolled to one side and brought both hands up to wrap around his face. "Lights," he mumbled through his palms.

He released a brief, automatic complaint against the sudden illumination that flooded his room. But then he levered himself upright, and frowned at the shady form of his bedroom door. Proper sleep was hard to find - it was true. But somewhere in the depths of his memory, a question lingered. Could there possibly have been something else to wake him?

Stepping out to the habitat ring, Julian felt the slightly cooler atmosphere through the fabric of his pyjamas. But he was still breathing heavily, swallowing a dry and prickly irritation in his throat, as though to cast away the remnants of a dash across some sandy, equatorial desert. "Hey!" he called, and glanced to either side of him. But the shadows gave him no answer. He wondered momentarily if they even had answers to give.

Just as unexpectedly, he felt his initial trepidation turn to a sudden burst of rage. "I know you're out there," he challenged the darkness. "And what's more, I know exactly who you are. You've lost your alias and your secret, so you may as well give yourself up right now."

But the darkness was not about to offer up its secrets as easily as he'd hoped. Julian's challenge yielded no results, save for the rapidly fading ghost of his own angry voice. He paused, staring as far as he was able to see, shoulders heaving, and now feeling more than a little silly.

"Doctor?"

He recognised that voice even before he turned around. Ro Laren stood in the centre of the darkened corridor, with a weak grid of light above reflecting from the strands of her straight brown hair. Her eyes - even darker than the ambient illumination - regarded him sidelong, with a wary frown. "Is something wrong?"

Stepping back, Julian shook his head. "Nothing particular, Lieutenant. Everything's fine."

Those same eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Julian forced a smile. "False alarm," he told her, with considerably more levity than he felt. "That's all. I'll see you in the morning."


	5. An Uneasy Reunion

"Busy night?" Julian teased his weary-eyed colleague, who finally allowed a trace of fatigue to reveal itself through her attempt at a smile.

"Not really." But at least there was still some good humour behind Doctor Girani's voice.

Julian nodded, understanding. In many ways, the steady tedium of an uneventful night shift could be every bit as exhausting as the previous morning's rush had been. Even so, if the drop in activity continued through the day, then he would welcome the much needed opportunity to catch up with some of his mounting paperwork. Maybe even indulge in a little research on the side.

His smile remained as Girani and the rest of his night staff disappeared onto the Promenade. But he was already secretly wondering if any of them had sensed how brittle it became by the time they were no longer around to see.

_You're being paranoid, _he insisted in the silence of his head. _It's quite all right_. _Probably nothing at all_…

Work was always a satisfactory distraction. "I'll be in the office if you need me," he told a tall and slightly freckled nurse, pleased to note the young man's answering nod.

* * *

The office was only a little smaller than the infirmary's central room, but felt noticeably more private even with one door opening directly onto the oft-crowded public walkways. Julian was oddly restless as he hunched forward in his chair, questioning even the walls around him as though they held the explanation for what could still be so inexplicably wrong.

Then he realised. Even after a full half-minute, he had still not touched the backlog of administrative work upon his desk.

He turned at the sound of the doors sliding open, hastily snatching up a stack of padds and tapping them on the desktop until they had arranged themselves into a somewhat orderly pile. "Can I…?" He stopped, momentarily catching his breath, and only just held back the beginnings of a too-obvious gasp.

"You the doctor?" asked Badin. One of his hands was clutching the opposite wrist. He stood in the doorway, a subtle grimace set upon the muscles of his mouth.

Julian's throat was so suddenly tight that he barely found space for his words to escape. _Whatever happened in the past_, he reminded himself. _It doesn't matter right now_. He _was _a doctor, and man had come to him in pain. Rising stiffly to his feet, he indicated the most direct path into the examination room.

"Come on through," he said with exaggerated formality.

The old man perched on the end of one of the beds, but grunted as he settled into place. Taking one ivy-tinted arm in both his hands, Julian shifted it carefully in every direction - and deliberately moulded his anxious face into a shallow frown of concentration.

"Let me know when it hurts."

With a sharp intake of breath, Badin winced. "That'd be now. Must've busted it lifting cargo or something." But then he snorted, laughing under his breath. His stone-grey eyes betrayed no pain. "Stupid of me, weren't it?"

"I wouldn't go that far." Julian continued to test the injury, noting the place where the old man's wrist was painfully swollen, fluid accumulating beneath the skin. _Not likely to have come from lifting heavy freight_, he thought. It was far more consistent with the impact of something far smaller - possibly even deliberate. "Still, you ought to make better use of the antigrav next time. You've managed to give yourself quite a sprain there, but nothing broken. Lucky for you."

"I know - I'm too old for the cargo handling game," answered Badin. "Just thought I'd take this one last assignment, and after that I'd quit this business for sure. Had some idea I might retire to some obscure corner of the galaxy. Possibly meet someone special, like. Start a family. But there's only ever been one woman I could of stayed with for any length of time. You got family, Doc?"

"No." Julian shook his head as he ran a healing light up and down the old man's arm. Even the relief he felt at the truth of this statement somehow increased the tension in his shoulders. But at least that was something. He had no wife and children to protect, but he couldn't be as certain about Amy.

"I like kids, me," said Badin. "Even when our encounters aren't always quite as… _pleasant _as they might of been. I've always liked kids."

"Oh?" Julian's voice was far too quiet for his liking, but he pushed aside a sudden wave of something oddly unpleasant - which was it, anxiety, or anger? - and pressed his fingers steadily, carefully against the old man's skin. The swelling had gone down somewhat, but it would still be tender for at least a day. He instructed the nurse to find him some bandages that he could use to provide extra support to Badin's wound.

"Yeah. I've known a few over the years. Might be good to have a few of my own. Especially, I remember this one kid from, oh - _years _ago." A series of horizontal furrows deepened across the man's forest-green brow. "Although actually, now when I think about it, there might have been two. That's right. Little kids. Liked 'em both. But both turned out just too curious for their own good, didn't they? And isn't there some saying on Earth? Something about cats, if I remember right…"

"Possibly."

Badin's grey eyes watched him, clear and emotionless, as Julian fastened the bandage, and lifted another of his medical instruments. A subdued blue light drifted slowly over the skin of both men. "There," said the doctor, and pressed a mild analgesic into Badin's arm. "How does that feel?"

His green-skinned patient flexed his fingers, tentatively at first, but with gradually increasing confidence. He nodded once. "Thank you, Doctor."

He levered himself away from his perch. "One of these days I really must tell you all about these kids I used to know. Somehow, I get the feeling you'd be interested."

"Perhaps, one day." Julian stifled a shudder, a little too hasty in his reply. "But one more thing before you leave… I'll talk to your supervisor if I have to, but I don't want to see you lifting any more heavy crates for another day or two at least. If necessary, I'll have them restrict you to light duty."

The answering sound from his patient's nose could only be described as a quietly paradoxical snort. "There _is _no light duty in freight handling," he scoffed. "But I suppose I ought to thank you for the sentiment."

With a cordial bow that chilled the young doctor's blood, he turned to leave. But then he stopped. "Ironic," he muttered, smiling.

Julian frowned, now genuinely confused.

"Something about this kid I used to know. He got himself hurt one time, and I was the one who helped to fix him up. I s'pose when I think about it, he just returned the favour." Badin Fen turned back towards the doctor, and his smile vanished. "Ironic, because now I also have a favour to return."


	6. Testimony

**2348, London**

Lights extended from corner to corner along the opposite end of the room, glowing like a row of hard edged suns. And in a chair, positioned at the very centre of the floor, the small boy sat in his place - alone.

There were people watching from beyond those glaring lights. But the only reason he knew for sure was that beyond the light was exactly where Lieutenant Tanner had said they would be. He peered in that same direction, trying to imagine their faces - and yet still not seeing a single one. And the beams of artificial radiance continued to stab, constant and unyielding, directly into the child's slitted eyes.

Determined not to be caught unprepared for the upcoming trial, the young boy had gone through every piece of information he could find on Federation legal practice. But then his father had scolded him when he saw the disbelief in the eyes of one lady at the local records office. Next time he wanted to find such grown-up books, Father had said, he was to ask one of his parents - and they would be the ones to locate whatever reading material he thought he needed.

There was a law, he discovered, which had barely changed for centuries. Children could be summoned to bear witness on occasion, but not forced as adults were to step inside a courtroom. Whatever he said today would not be immediately seen by any jury - possibly not until many days later. But they had to keep the room bright and clean, for the sake of the recording they needed to make of this boy's testimony. It would be transformed later to a perfect holographic reproduction.

A voice issued forth from behind the gleaming wall, just as if one of the lights had spoken. "Please state your full name."

The boy squirmed in his seat. He responded with barely a whisper.

"Once more," said the same unattached voice. "For the record. And try to speak up this time."

But he could only stare, breathing deeply through an ever tightening knot in his chest.

He sensed a pause, the sound of hushed voices, and finally there was movement in front of him as a shadow appeared from behind the glare. "Computer, pause recording," somebody said, followed by an answering chime.

"Jules--" Dorian Tanner knelt in front of the chair, and rested a hand on the boy's smaller, coffee-brown arm. "You remember what we talked about, don't you? No-one is going to hurt you. None of those men are even here to listen. But we do need to hear a nice, loud voice, okay?"

He smiled. "If it helps, you can make believe that you're really just getting a snack from the replicator. Try it. What do you like to eat - right now?"

Jules thought about his answer. "Soup?" He _was _a little hungry.

"What kind?"

"Beef and vegetables. Like at that big Starfleet place." He glanced towards the light, and imagined his mother and father watching from somewhere just metres away. Perhaps Mother would be smiling. He'd been told that they would both be there, but wished that he could see their faces.

"That's what we'll have at lunchtime, then." The balding lieutenant patted the child's left-hand shoulder. "And that's just the kind of voice we need. You ready?"

Jules swung his legs thoughtfully against the front of the chair, where they dangled without quite touching the floor. He took slightly longer to consider his answer this time around. But finally, he nodded.

"Good boy." Lieutenant Tanner vanished once more behind the curtain of light.

He whispered again to the stern-voiced bailiff, and there was the same voice again. "Computer. Resume recording." Jules took a deep breath.

"State your full name for the record," said the voice.

_I'm just asking the replicator for beef and vegetable soup_, the boy reminded himself. _That's all_.

"Julian Subatoi Bashir," he replied, and was distantly proud of how confident he now sounded. A smile touched his lips. _It's not so hard_. His mind shifted over the story he had to tell them - no longer his secret any more - and he pushed through the swell of anxiety that followed directly after. His momentary smile was quick to fade.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

He nodded, and then remembered what that podgy, white haired, beetroot-faced lawyer had told him. He had to speak the words aloud. "Yes, Sir."

There was another pause. _Savoury beef and vegetable_, Jules thought. _With potatoes, mushrooms, big green peas_… He barely stopped himself from squirming again.

Another figure moved forward, this one a woman. "I just have some questions for you, okay Jules?" she said, smiling tightly, and did not wait for his response. "So, first thing's first. Just remember that you've promised to tell us the truth. How about we start with: When did you meet Badin Fen?"


	7. Early Afternoon at Quark's

**2376, Deep Space Nine**

A loud female voice was calling his name from the opposite side of the skeletal, charcoal black form of the stairwell at Quark's. A hand beckoned furiously. "Join us!"

The bar was barely half as crowded as it had been on the previous day, but there was still enough activity within to obscure the speaker - however briefly - from the doctor's view. He moved slightly closer, and grinned at the sight of Dax's smooth, white face. But his steps were suddenly hesitant, smile fading, as he saw the others in their party.

Ro, Kira, Dax… Ezri beamed at him and patted the only available seat, and Ro turned towards him, just in time to see an open scowl pass momentarily between Julian's dark brows. No-one else appeared to be paying much attention to their silent exchange, but it was her remaining companions who had particularly caught his eye. And the empty chair was positioned directly between Ezri and Professor Amy Dowling.

_You set this up on purpose, didn't you_? He wished for a moment that he could have possessed even a basic level of telepathic ability, so that the irritable thought he had sent her way would not fail to reach its target. But Ezri's expression was far too innocent for his liking.

"Doctor Bashir?" the Vulcan woman commented as soon as Julian had settled into his chair. Her slender eyebrows arched precisely upwards, with what might possibly have been just a hint of irony. "So. The same young man whom we came so close to meeting just a single afternoon before this one?"

Julian was spared the need to reply as one of Quark's waiters shuffled closer with a tray of tall, multicoloured drinks balanced in both his hands. The grey-eyed Ferengi - whose face was not especially distinguished, except for a slightly rattish overbite - was silent as he set the drinks upon the table. But he cast a surreptitious glance at the clear, palm sized disc that Kira still held in her hands.

He paused a moment, as though secretly calculating the value of this tiny container. But his gaze lasted for only as long as it could barely be noticed - or until he was sure that there was no great amount of Latinum to be gained from whatever was inside.

Then, just as wordlessly, he left.

There was a brief silence at the table. But then Kira glanced at the retreating waiter, and chuckled. "All right." She held up the transparent container as though merely picking up on a previously unfinished conversation. "You've got me. What is this?"

For a moment, Julian imagined that he'd caught a glimmer of excitement in Amy's eyes - identical to that which he occasionally sensed behind his own. Ro's expression was just slightly pained, and Julian allowed himself some passing amusement. He supposed that of all those present, the mahogany-haired Security Chief was the least attuned to the delights of scientific discovery.

Kira Nerys was no scientist either. But she was a far more practised diplomat than she'd been when they first met. At least she managed to appear somewhat interested.

Which wouldn't have made an awful lot of difference, Julian supposed. He'd seen that wide-open grin on too many faces not to know that Amy would most likely have carried on regardless.

"It's for storing and cataloguing bio-samples," she told them all. "Professor M'Pel and I - and the rest of our team - are all quite eager to see her new innovations in ecological research being put into practice."

With a fleeting glance at M'Pel, Julian struggled to imagine how the stoic Vulcan scientist could ever be particularly _eager _about anything. But Amy continued without even seeming to notice his scepticism. Her smile grew still brighter with every word.

"I'm actually looking forward to testing it as well. I mean, it's so basic, it's ingenious. With every new species we find, we gather the genetic data first. And then we scan the habitat for similar DNA, and from that we can get an idea of the population density without even having to bother with individual tags. Er…" Her voice trailed to nothing.

"Don't stop," Ezri encouraged her. "We're all fascinated. Right, Julian?"

He glared, longing once more to be able to send her secret telepathic messages. _Whatever it is you're trying to gain from all this, don't_.

Suddenly, Amy laughed softly. "Truth or dare," she said - not quite under her breath.

Julian's head jerked around towards her. "What?"

"Truth or dare." The professor repeated her challenge, and grinned still more broadly at the circle of confusion around her.

"It's an Earth game," she explained, but glanced around the table with a troubled sigh. Her smile faded as she stared back down at her hands. It was difficult to maintain a clear view of her face, especially in the dim, unnatural lighting, but Julian imagined that he may have even seen her blush. "Private joke…" she muttered. "Never mind."

Two pairs of questioning dark eyes were now unexpectedly directed at Julian. Their aim was as sure as guided torpedos, and every bit as unlikely to release him from their hold. Trying to appear indifferent, he shrugged at Kira and Ro - and also at Professor M'Pel, whose statuesque face was every bit as curious, regardless of how practised she might have assumed herself to be at concealing it.

"There is something like that on Earth," he said. "But…" He wanted to lie to them - to assure the others around the table that he didn't understand the reference. But he found himself glancing at the suddenly uncertain face of Professor Amy Dowling. He couldn't possibly be that cruel.

But neither could he confess to all the rising doubts he still had of his own. He realised that he'd been peering anxiously over his shoulder, and that Ro was casting none-too-subtle frowns in his direction. "Will you stop doing that?" Ezri hissed in his ear.

"Sorry." Julian Bashir forced a chuckle from deep inside his chest. There was no more sign of sinister activity than there'd been when he arrived. "I guess you have to be Human to understand our jokes sometimes. It's just one of those things."


	8. The Doctor and the Professor

Dax followed Julian onto the Promenade, covering the last few steps in a steady jog. "Julian, I… I'm sorry. Honestly. I never meant to alarm you."

He paused, turning around to face her, and noted her slightly anxious half-smile. And suddenly he felt just as awkward for having been the first to leave. But there had been something about the conversation, something thathad made him desperate to escape into the open.

"How about dinner tonight?" Ezri ventured. "It'll be just us - I promise. To make it up to you."

Finally, Julian smiled, and he noticed the younger woman's smile relax in turn. "You don't have to make up for anything," he made certain to reassure her. "But dinner does sound nice."

"It's a date." She turned and strode away along the corridor, a definite spring now marking every step.

But at almost the instant he was sure that no-one would see, Julian's expression changed. His lips tensed, curling inward to rest between his teeth, and a marked furrow immediately appeared between his brows.

The isolation of his office was a welcome place to which he could return. He relaxed noticeably, rubbing the tension from his eyes, and paused for a moment at a point just by the entrance. His infirmary was still relatively quiet in its place just by the Promenade, with none of the bustle of the previous day. And with the briefest chance for his thoughts to wander, he was vaguely surprised at the direction they were taking.

He stood, repeatedly opening and closing his hands and forcing slow, controlled breaths steadily through his nose. And then, an instant before he realised it, his feet were tracing a direct path towards a broad, square console, fingers tapping lightly on the illuminated controls.

"Computer. Access Federation Security record--" He sighed, distantly curious as to why heshould be whispering. "Badin Fen."

"You never took my challenge," said a voice at the entrance. Julian jerked his head around, and wondered with some anxiety if he'd been quick enough to cut the image of Badin's ivy-tinted face.

Professor Dowling stood, behind him - and he had never even heard her enter. "What challenge is that?" he asked, fashioning his expression into the slightest degree of polite confusion.

"Truth or dare."

"Alright then, Professor." Julian leaned back. "I'll play along. Dare."

"How about if I dare you to stop avoiding me? Or do I have to snap my arm in half a dozen places to get you even to say hello?"

Julian glanced around him like a rabbit trapped at the back ofits burrow, andfought to conceal the sudden discomfiting anxiety. "What makes you say that?" he asked with deliberate innocence.

Amy'sforehead tensed into an irritable scowl. "I swear I could throttle you right now, Jules Bashir!"

"All _right_!" Hands flailing wildly - as they often did when his thoughts were moving much too fast, Julian stood and stepped away from his seat. "You've got me. I guess I was just… nervous, perhaps? Or… I'm not exactly sure. I thought… I thought you might have forgotten all about me."

Amy laughed softly, visibly relaxing. "I guess I thought the same. Until I saw you again at that bar. Interesting place."

Her old friend's answering smile was easy and open. There were understatements, and then…

"Your turn," he said. "Truth or dare."

"Truth, I suppose." Eyebrows raised in wary anticipation, Amy waited. She didn't have to wait for long.

"Why 'Dowling'?" Julian was just as surprised to hear himself ask.

His companion ignored a cloud of fine hair that strayed across one of her eyes, as her smile turned to a thoughtful frown. "What do you mean?"

"You changed your name. I was wondering why. Do you have a husband now, or something?"

"Husband…?" Now she laughed, shaking her head as she leant against the opposite wall.

"It's not entirely unbelievable," said Julian, slightly offended.

"Sorry." Amy straightened and struggled to contain the sudden burst of amusement. "No, I'm not married. It's just… I was twelve years old when my foster parents adopted me, andI honestly can't count the number of places I was in before then. Besides, it wasn't safe to call myself 'Tanner' any more. Even with false records, people can still discover things you don't want them to know, and I didn't see why Iought tomake it any easier for them to find me."

Amy sighed, lowering her eyes. For a moment, there was silence, and Julian scratched his head, suddenly unsure of exactly what to say. The need to keep secrets was hardly unfamiliar ground. Life came in compartments, many of which were never to be re-opened. Stay away - admit to nothing, and trouble could be put off for another day at least. He had sensed from their very first meeting that Amy understood the same.

"I… er…" He scratched his head. "I knew that was you in Paris."

He was even less certain of where these words had come from, even after they had escaped unbidden through his lips. "Well, maybe not at first. But…"

Before the professor had a chance to reply, there was movement outside the door. But her open stare said more than enough to abandon any need for words.

"You wanted us to report for a physical," Ro Laren reminded him, answering the momentary uncertainty in their eyes before either of them could ask. "Well, I'm here. So let's get this over with."

Julian held back an oddly accusatory frown. It was almost unheard of for any officer to volunteer for a physical exam, and Security officers were among the most notorious of all. "Of course," he said, flashing a smile in her direction. "Right this way."

"…Unless I'm interrupting something." Ro cast a brief glance attheir companion.

"No, no. Not particularly." But before disappearing through the door, Amy turned back to Julian. "How about supper?" she asked him suddenly. "Tonight at the Klingon restaurant."

"I'd like that," the doctor told her. "But… wait a minute. I already have plans. Shall we say tomorrow instead? Lunch? You can tell me some more about that ecological research of yours."

Amy nodded. "Tomorrow it is." She reached forward and shook his hand. "See you then, Doctor."

"Professor," responded Julian. Finally, she vanished, leaving him behind to face Constable Ro's ironic stare.


	9. M'Pel's Warning

There was a little over an hour to spare between the end of Julian's shift and the time when he was due to meet Ezri for dinner. Leaving the infirmary behind, he wondered if he should try to seek her out ten minutes early. It would be a little too unusual to show up very much earlier, but it might be nice to take on the role of escort. _You may as well attempt to be traditional_, he thought with a quiet smile.

But meeting Ezri was not the only thing he had to do that day. While he'd still been working, there was always something else he had to get done - although little of it was perhaps as urgent as he'd wanted to make it seem. And now that his shift was over, he no longer had any real excuses. The time had come to find Lieutenant Ro.

"You've met that scientist woman before, haven't you?" Ro had asked him earlier that afternoon, watching him sidelong with suspicious dark eyes.

"Of course," Julian replied absently. "She was at Ops yesterday. Cough."

Ro obeyed. But there was something deliberate about the way she turned around to glance behind her, directly at his carefully innocent face. "That isn't what I mean," she said. "And I think you know that."

"Well, you could be right, Lieutenant. Again."

_And why didn't I say something with her already in the room_? he wondered. _It would have been the perfect opportunity_.

Still, it was not too late. Not when there was still an hour to go. He could meet with Ezri after visiting the Security office, and would do his best in that time to let them know as much as he could tell.

He slowed a little, sensing that his hands were curling involuntarily into tense half-fists. The nerves of his back prickled as he surveyed the corridor, but he fought against a sudden urge to spin around and look behind him. He'd been walking in the same direction for quite some time already, and had not seen any sign at all of Badin. The crowd was thin enough that he would not have been so easily concealed. And what possible reason would anyone else have to follow him all this way?

Still wary, a little too sensitive to every sound and flash of movement, he covered the remaining few steps to the Security office. But the room was dark. Ro's chair was empty, and there was no suggestion of any other activity within. Stepping back, he opened his mouth to ask the computer where she had gone.

"Doctor Bashir."

Julian leapt around, and gasped at the sight of the woman now positioned less than a metre away. His breath was suddenly shallow, both hands immediately numb and tense. His heart was racing half as fast again as was comfortable, and he was certain that this woman would not have been able to sneak up on him so easily by accident. Not unless that had been her intention all along.

"Professor?"

M'Pel studied him coolly, dark eyes never blinking, and she gave no sign that his startled behaviour had fazed her at all.

_Of course_, he cursed inwardly. _Chances are she hasn't even gotten a single eyelash out of place_. A second, even more persistent thought occurred to him. He wondered if he should point out to her that it was impolite to sneak up on people as they went about their business on the Promenade. But some small part of him stopped the words, causing them to snag in his throat before he had even managed to begin. He didn't even know the professor well enough to scold her.

"You are attempting to locate Lieutenant Ro Laren," the scientist noted. Julian nodded, wondering if - and why - holding a conversation with a Vulcan always had to be this difficult and unnerving.

"Do you know where she is?"

"It is better that you do not go to her."

"What?" Julian stepped backwards, shaking his head in disbelief. "Why?"

M'Pel's eyes were cold and level. "I know already of your previous acquaintance with Professor Dowling," she commented with as little inflection as if she were merely reciting number sequences.

"How…?" When _exactly_ had the universe become so difficult to comprehend? Julian wondered, sensing the carpeted floor of the Promenade begin to rock and sway beneath his feet. "I don't…"

"She herself informed me of your history. And I deduce from the behaviour of your own Lieutenant Dax, that you have revealed as much to her as well."

He nodded. _That _would _explain things_. But the Vulcan scientist had not stopped talking, giving him no time to reply.

"I am also here to caution you - you are not the only one on the station with an interest in Professor Dowling."

"Badin…" Julian whispered under his breath. He realised that he'd been wondering when that name would surface, knowing somehow that it had been the undercurrent beneath every word of their exchange so far. But if anyone had noticed his response, they gave no sign.

He looked up. "Just a minute, Professor. Why are you telling this to me, and not Security? Sorry to have to say this, but this whole conversation strikes me as rather… _illogical_. Don't you think?"

"Then why have you not already told your Security Chief?"

_I was about to_, Julian tried to protest. But he closed his mouth without a word when he realised how remarkably ineffective this retort would most likely have been.

M'Pel stepped closer "If you speak to Security, he will know," she insisted, low enough that only he could hear her voice. "At present, I believe that our best weapon is vigilance. See all, tell nothing. And do not allow yourself to be taken by surprise."

"But…" stammered Julian. "How could you know about…?"

Nodding once to him, M'Pel turned and strode away, vanishing into the crowd as smoothly and invisibly as she had first appeared.


	10. Confessions With Salad

Dax sighed. "Very well, then," she said, watching Julian from across the table as he pushed his meal around his plate with a diminutive metal fork. "Perhaps we should have left this for another day."

"No, no," he told her, shaking his head with a smile he could not quite force to spread beyond his mouth. "_I'm _sorry. I promise not to bring the mood down any further."

But then, there was silence. Heavy and awkward. His attention redirected towards the still as-yet-untouched supper, Julian paused to note the textured clusters of green, red and white; the way in which the shadows traced peculiar shapes across the lettuce leaves and strayed around the edge of the plate to form a thin crescent on the table's unmarred, sky-blue surface.

"You're still worried," Ezri observed, without warning.

Throat suddenly tight enough to ache, Julian nodded.

In the absence of anywhere else to go, still struggling to understand much of that earlier conversation with Professor M'Pel, he had traced an indirect path back to his quarters, dropped onto the sofa, and remained where he was - frowning quietly at his hands. It was over seven minutes later that he finally realised, he had neglected to call for the lights.

"Computer…" he'd whispered to the empty room - but instead of light, he called for an image to be brought to the monitor in his quarters. Even after Amy - and then Ro - had left him alone, he still hadn't taken the chance to study Badin's file.

"They let him go," Julian murmured softly - almost to himself. The blade of light that shifted over the surface of his fork seemed to blink in agreement. "They let him go, and now he's here."

It was not entirely beyond the scope of logic. After all, Badin Fen had spent more years in gaol than was traditional even for hired assassins. The man had been free for at least seven of the intervening years - almost as long as Julian Bashir had been a CMO.

But when he really thought about it, he could not help but feel angry. Betrayed. Wasn't parole supposed to come with conditions attached? And all those years ago, the promising young doctor could not have been difficult for authorities to find. Hadn't one single person even thought to tell him _something _about the old man's release?

Whatever part of these feelings were displayed upon his face, Ezri was quick to notice. "A lot of shuttles left the docking ring last night. There is a chance he's not even on the station any more."

It was a weak attempt to settle his fears, and they both knew it. Julian shook his head. "He was at the infirmary just this morning."

"You never mentioned this," said Ezri. A quiet frown appeared, accompanied by the rattle of utensils dropping back onto her plate.

Looking up into her troubled blue eyes, Julian slowly realised that he was speaking - telling her everything. Badin's entry into the office, his own suspicions, even the inescapable impression that Badin knew he wasn't fooled…

_So why can I tell this to Dax and not to Ro_? he asked himself in some distant, faraway corner of his mind. _It can't be that much more difficult_.

He ended with the old man's parting words.

Ezri's eyes widened in sudden horror. "Julian - if someone's making threats against you, then you really ought to tell Security."

"Tell them what?" said Julian, his tone set for a challenge. "You said it yourself. I can't prove anything."

"Proving things is Ro's job," Ezri countered. "And besides, if you don't tell them, I will."

The rest of whatever she'd been about to say was cut short by a commotion behind them, and a small, pale, fair-haired Human stumbled unexpectedly roughly into Julian's back. "Oh," said the woman as he reached out to steady her by the arm. "Excuse me - I'm sorry."

"Not at all," the doctor responded with a conciliatory smile. "Are you all right?"

The stranger mirrored his expression, although she still appeared a little startled. "It's all good. I just tripped, is all."

"Sure?"

She laughed. "Happens all the time. Clumsy old me!"

Bashir glanced behind him for a second or two as the woman continued to weave her way towards the exit. In spite of her assurances, he could still not quite dismiss the tension from his brow. "Strange," he muttered.

"What is?"

He turned his attention back to where Ezri still watched, but his only response was a soft chuckle and a shake of his head. Perhaps he really _was _just getting paranoid.

Gathering several crisp vegetables onto his fork, he thought about making some attempt to eat, but then rested it diagonally on a bed of salad - untouched. When had the assortment of colours become so interesting to look at...? He supposed it didn't particularly matter.

"Are you ever going to eat that?" Ezri nodded at his plate of salad.

"When I'm ready." Julian's response carried a subtle hint of annoyance.

"Well - you don't mind if I try some, then?"

He pushed the plate towards her. "Be my guest."

Ezri waited until she'd finished with the following mouthful before continuing. "You know, I meant what I said. You really do have to speak to Ro."

Julian responded with a non-committal grunt. He wondered if he should mention what M'Pel had told him earlier that very afternoon, although why she had given him such strange advice was far beyond his ability to fathom…

There was a pause, and a sudden gasp from Ezri's side of the table. "I know that look," she accused.

He glanced up. "What look?"

"_That _look. Julian, tell me you're not about to do anything foolish."

"You're not about to do anything foolish."

Dax glared. "That's not funny."

"All right." Julian looked down, nodding slowly. His supper did look quite tasty. Perhaps he should try some after all - if only he could make himself feel like eating. "I swear I'll behave. Happy?"

"Julian…"

Now he was truly irritable. "I already said all right," he snapped. "What more do you want?"

"Not that…" Her hand was suddenly around his wrist, grasping him so tightly that it hurt. "Julian, something's wrong."

With a rush of heat to his muscles, Julian leapt around the back of his chair to grab Ezri's too-tight shoulders. Her eyes were wide, face pale as sour milk, and her most recent words had been little more than a horribly twisted gasp. He could hear her wheezing - mouth open like a fish stranded on the bank of a river. Lowering her to the floor, he spoke her name. But he had not intended to shout.

"Just hold on, Dax," he whispered and reached behind him to snatch his own medkit from the floor. Ezri's eyes rolled all the way back so that the white of their surface was all that showed. Her back arched, head jerking grotesquely - and he held it in one strong hand while the other continued to stroke her hair.

"Ju…li…an." Dax's eyes were closing, breath rasping through the constriction at the top of her windpipe.

_Poison_, Julian thought - as angry with himself as he was with the _apparently _clumsy stranger. He forced his voice to remain as calm and level as he could possibly make it.

"You'll be all right," he told her. "We'll get you to the infirmary. Just hang on until then."


	11. Questions

There was a powerful synthetic chemical coursing through her system - although nothing that Julian had ever seen before. It did bear some similarity to several more traditional poisons found on Earth, but he could only hope that it was close enough in its composition to respond to the standard antidotes.

It always came down to the same thing, didn't it? Almost in the exact instant that one disaster was resolved aboard the station, another would present itself as if it had been waiting all along to move into the newly vacated place. There was nothing left that he could do - nothing but watch, and wait, and run a tight-muscled hand angrily through his hair.

Technically of course, this was Simon's shift. The younger doctor was still casting anxious glances toward them, but he had not made any comment about Julian's continued presence.

Stepping forward to where Ezri slept, Julian gazed down at her face, and brushed tender fingertips lightly across the breadth of her palm. She was no longer quaking like she had. That ought to have counted for something. But he stayed on that exact same place, quietly frustrated, unwilling to leave her side even as another harsh reminder plagued his thoughts.

_Amy. You have to warn Amy._

"Doctor?"

He rubbed away a momentary frown before turning to face the waiting Security lieutenant. "Not here," he told Ro Laren, keeping his voice low and signalling to the adjacent office.

Kira was close by them both, scarcely concealing the tension in the muscles above her nose ridges, and just as unable to keep her gaze from the recumbent form of Ezri Dax. Julian wanted to turn back every bit as badly, to ignore the pair of staring Bajorans and concentrate on the pale young woman he'd come to love so well. Most of all, to _do _something.

"How is she?" the captain asked.

"It's difficult to know for sure right now," confessed Julian, glancing sadly behind him. "I've done everything I can, but I guess this is what we Humans mean when we say that 'time will tell.' The rest is up to her."

He swallowed hard, choking on the last of his words, and sensed Kira's hand as it pressed firmly around his own. She nodded once, understanding. And she _did _understand, he realised. Even with all that he had still not told her, she understood.

"Keep me informed," she said. Julian nodded.

In almost no time at all, the doctor and Lieutenant Ro were the only ones remaining in his office. The Security Chief looked his way, and he wondered briefly if there were special tests administered to all those appointed to her position. Something to assess their ability to stare. Before her predecessor had left them to rejoin the Founders, Julian had always assumed that Odo's unnerving expression was a result of his still only partially structured face.

And Ro was staring now. "What happened, Doctor?"

_Stupid question_…

"Someone poisoned Ezri," he growled. "_That's _what happened."

Ro allowed the moment to pass. "Is there nothing else?"

"Such as?" Julian injected a level of deliberate innocence into his voice.

"Theories?" prompted Ro. "Anything that might bear some connection to this case? A notion as to why anyone would want to harm… either of you?"

There was something about the tone of her query. Julian paused, mouth open with the beginnings of an answer. _Tell her_, he urged himself. _She can help_.

But then he closed his mouth again, and started to turn away.

"Doctor…"

"I don't know."

"You're being evasive," insisted the pale Bajoran lieutenant. With another sudden burst of anger, Julian rounded on her.

"I'm not trying to evade anyone, Constable. I'm trying to _think_."

Suddenly, he was as unbearably tired as a wrinkled old man with hair as white as a snow-storm. "Sorry," he conceded. "There was a woman. Only there for a moment - but no-one I've ever seen before."

"Could you identify her if you saw her again?"

Julian nodded. "I think so."

After another moment's tense silence, she sighed. "I'll still need your statement."

"And you'll have it," he told her. "Later."

If only he could make himself believe that his promise would hold true. Ro was not satisfied either. That much was easy to understand. She continued to study his face, eyes just slightly narrowed.

"I'm leaving Security outside," she finally insisted. Julian nodded quietly.

"I'd rather you didn't, but… Whatever you feel is necessary. Just make sure they stay outside."

He took a step away from her. "Now, if you will excuse me, Lieutenant. I really must be getting back to my patient."

* * *

Two Security officers were quickly positioned just half a step from the exit - both of them large, broad-chested men, and both with small grey eyes directed perpetually forward. Ro spoke to each in a hushed whisper, punctuating her words with deliberate gestures and casting more open stares at the station's Chief Medical Officer than she did at Simon or even Ezri.

Julian pretended not to have noticed her scrutiny. As soon as she was no longer visible, he glanced first at Doctor Tarses, and then back down at Ezri's face. All the readings above the bed showed that she was stable, for now at least. Bashir's jaw clenched tightly. But this time there was resolution mixed with the steady, anxious throb of the pulse beneath his skin.

"I'll be back before you know it," he promised, too quietly for anyone else to hear. Rising to his feet, he allowed himself barely a moment to stroke the surface of her cheek before turning his attention to Simon. "Call me if anything changes, won't you?"

The other man nodded. "Of course, but… Where are you going?"

_What makes you think I'm going anywhere_? he was tempted to ask, but held the words back at the very last second. "I have something to do," he answered instead. "An errand."

_Of sorts_… It was a pathetic reply, and he winced just to hear himself speak it. He hated to leave the infirmary behind - and Dax. But he was still filled with the same trepidation that had plagued him from the start. And none of whatever had started would be over, not until it had carried itself through all the way until the end.


	12. Ferengi Recollections

"Computer," whispered Julian, careful not to allow his voice to carry as he hurried along the Promenade. "Locate Professor Dowling."

The emotionless female voice seemed to drone right in his ear. "_Professor Dowling is in her quarters. Level twelve, Section twenty-two Beta_."

He paused instead at the entrance to Quark's, painfully undecided, heart still racing. He would have to make it as brief a visit as possible, but there was another matter he had to see to first.

"What can I do for you?" The fall-back line of barkeepers everywhere. But Quark's grin vanished the moment he saw the darkness in his potential customer's eyes.

"You can tell me about Emanon," Julian insisted.

"Again?"

"No more games, Quark. What did you sell to him?"

"What makes you think I sold him anything?" the Ferengi challenged, but then he smiled again. "You know, Doc - you're looking a little tense. If you like I could set you up with one of my latest recreational programmes, direct from the pleasure spas of…"

"I don't have time for this." Anger, frustration, even fear all threatened to turn Julian's voice to a rising shout, but he forced it to remain at a whisper. "Ezri could have died today. And she's not the only one."

"Dax?" Quark gasped, suddenly pale.

At the mention of her name, Julian's stomach twisted queasily. "That's right." Pushing his voice to the surface was suddenly as difficult as hauling boulders uphill in two times Earth-gravity. "So _now_ do you see? This is serious, and you'd better not have had anything to do with it. Now _tell _me. What's going on?"

The bartender sputtered, face twisting into a round-eyed, toothy grimace. "Nothing. I swear. All Emanon everwanted was a drink, and… and…"

Suddenly, his mouth opened even further - exactly as it might had be been stunned - and an expression of pure horror crept into his eyes.

"And what?" Julian demanded, loud enough to break the Ferengi from his trance.

"News," said Quark. "I hear things, sometimes. You know? I do remember thinking that some of his questions were a little off. There was just no _profit _in any of it. I mean what would a couple of scientists…? But then, everything he told me was just too strange."

"Such as?" Julian wanted to know.

"Let's see now…" Staring down at his cleaning rag as it circled around the empty glass in his hands, Quark frowned, thinking hard. "Something about… a very important event. Yes - those were his words. He was here for _a very important event_. And there was more bizarre talk, about an unfulfilled promise, and a favour he had to return. I forget the rest. I figured he just owed someone money."

The doctor jerked backwards, now with the same horror reflected in his eyes. _Badin was asking Quark about Amy_…

"Other than that--" the big-eared Ferengi continued his lisping speech. "All the man ever bought from me was a Samarian Sunset. I swear it."

Without another word, Julian leapt around like he'd been flung from a slingshot. He darted for the exit, and narrowly missed a group of four junior technicians, so intent on their conversation that they barely even noticed him pass.

* * *

The door to the guest quarters opened, and Amy's curious smile turned quickly to an expression of confused alarm. But before she could speak, Julian had her by both arms and was pushing her back inside. He glanced furtively around him as the door slid closed again.

"_Jules_!" she protested, jerking free. "What are you…?"

"I have to ask you something." Weak with relief at finding her still alive, Julian's voice had turned to a tense, breathy whisper. "Have you noticed anything unusual recently, and especially since the last time we talked?"

"Unusual?" She frowned, shaking her head. "Like what?"

"Faces, perhaps. Or something going on… Anything that just doesn't feel quite right."

"You're scaring me."

"_Think_, Amy - this is important."

"Why?"

Before he could answer, there was movement at his left hand side. Words caught in his throat when he noticed Professor M'Pel enter from the adjacent room. She glided smoothly towards him, steady brown eyes quick to lock with his own. "This is a most opportune surprise, Doctor. We were not expecting any other visitors."

"Yes - it's a real lark," Julian snapped, absently, unsure of exactly how to feel about her presence. He gazed uneasily past her, to the door through which she had come, and was far too aware of every slow, shallow breath he took.

"What's going on?" he demanded of M'Pel, who cocked her head slightly, regarding him as she might an interesting biological sample.

"I am not entirely certain that I comprehend your meaning."

"Yes you do," growled Julian. "There's something very wrong in here, and I intend to find out what."

"I always said you were a clever boy," said a far deeper voice than any of the others. Amy and Julian turned towards it, and the young doctor quickly discovered that his throat was dry. Another figure had already emerged from the same room as the Vulcan scientist. Ignoring Amy's shocked blue eyes, Badin Fen turned his attention to Julian - and smiled like an elderly uncle. "But I do think you'd have done better to leave things be. That's just the kind of thing as is gonna get you in trouble, one o' these days."


	13. The Final Stand of Badin Fen

"Well, how about this? Who would've thought all us old friends would wind up together again? After all this time?"

"Old friends?" challenged Julian.

"Don't play innocent with me." Badin's answer came more as a dangerous snarl than a voice. Something flashed red in the clutches of one roughened hand. But he covered it up too quickly to identify.

Amy was looking at every face in the room, mouth open with continued indignation. "Is anyone _ever _going to tell me what's going on?"

"He's Badin," Julian whispered. Amy swung her face around, suddenly pale, tears of disbelief gathering at the base of her eyes. They both noticed the intruder's mouth twitch into a horrid smile.

And then the old man turned to M'Pel. "See? Told you this one was smart."

It was Julian who finally thought of the words that his friend was so unable to find. "You let him in here, didn't you?" he accused the raven-haired Vulcan. "Is that why you didn't want me to tell Security? Because you were involved in all this?"

"Too late now." The old man's voice cut through all his remaining speculations. But an even stranger expression flashed across M'Pel's smooth face - a brief twitch of the muscles around her eyes, almost too subtle for any of the others to see. Badin turned to glance towards her, too close to seeing the same brief change.

_Don't let him_.

Julian shifted his weight, snatching back his adversary's attention. "You also told me once that none of this was personal."

For a seemingly eternal moment, Badin's eyes narrowed dangerously. But at least this attempt at distraction appeared to have been effective. "Una's dead," the smaller man told him. Anger flashed behind the grey of his eyes. "You remember Una, don't you? She caught some kinda… I don't know what, and nobody even let me say goodbye. There was a funeral. Without me. It wouldn't have been an issue if I'd been free to move about as I liked. But the warden said that I was a… _flight _risk. So yeah - I'd say it's just got personal."

"If you were that attached to your freedom, then perhaps you should have left us alone!"

Julian staggered from the force of a tightly clenched backhand across one lower cheek. He glared, face hot, lips curled into a fearsome snarl. But he did not fall. Shaking away the pain and momentary disorientation, he realised after just a second or two that there were steadying hands pressed against his arms.

Amy Dowling hesitated before releasing her hold. "Are you…?"

"Fine," he muttered. But Badin's face was flushed, so dark that it was approaching black.

"Was that some kind of joke?" he demanded, hand clenched even tighter around whatever object it was hiding.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Julian held a hand to his jaw where it continued to throb painfully.

"Good," the other man growled. "Because it wasn't funny."

And what _was _that in his hand, that made it so impossible to look away?

Badin's thumb was stroking it now, rubbing deliberately across the surface as if it were some twenty-fourth century Aladdin's lamp. "My God…" said Amy, suddenly, face as pale as cream. Her words barely emerged, as if she'd choked them up from the very depths of her throat.

Then Julian saw it, the glint of light reflected from a metal surface - hidden beneath the fabric of the old man's loose-fitting coat. "A bomb," he gasped in sudden horror. "He's got…"

"Call it my very own farewell gift - to all of you," Badin told them, his voice low and chilling. "You'll find that I tend to pay back what I owe."

His thumb shifted - just a little.

Julian leapt around between the old man and Professor Amy Dowling.

At the edge of his vision, he saw M'Pel. Once forgotten, she had also propelled herself forward, allowing her own weight to topple Badin's suddenly tumbling body…

…And finally, there was only smoke, heat, a sound like thunder… the stench of chemicals, twisted and burning… and a hot, stinging pain like a knife across his eyes.


	14. Escape

**2357, Paris**

For a long time after the girl had left him behind, Julian found that he was still gazing absently at the door to an otherwise empty room. Silence fell heavily upon his surroundings. More than he ever had, he imagined that there ought to have been dust drifting between himself and the too clean yellow-white of the artificial lighting. They would have been just like the thoughts within his head - aimless, formless, never quite settling into any kind of discernable shape.

If only he could attach them to words, he might then be able to take them out and study them - like a patch of biological flotsam he'd set beneath a microscope and was simply examining for some new Science project. As it was, the only shape that came clearly enough to him was the face of that shy teenage girl.

Without warning, he leapt from the change room bench, and left his half open bag still draped loosely across it. There might still be time, he urged himself as he dashed out through the exit. Time to seek her out before she vanished back to whatever untraceable corner of the galaxy she now called home.

A call was forming on his lips, a long unspoken word. A name…

He slowed to a stop in the middle of the corridor, panting slightly, and ignoring the stares of a small group of onlookers who were quick to return to their conversation. For a moment, and still a little uncertain as to why he was no longer moving forward, Julian hunched over with his hands against his thighs, and peered along the empty passageway.

Stupid. It was stupid. What would he say to her anyway? Finally straightening to his full height, he quietly shook his head and returned to the change room to collect his gear.

* * *

**2376, Deep Space Nine**

Somebody hauled him to his feet, tugging him from the heat and flames. Horribly off balance and already blinded by smoke, he struggled to obey the insistent pull. But a strong, steady arm was wrapped confidently about his waist. He draped his own around the shoulders of his unseen companion, and forced both legs to step across the treacherously shifting floor.

The supporting hand was still around him as they stumbled together - almost tripped - over the slight rise at the entrance. Julian wondered dimly when it had become so difficult to cross, but whoever held him had already deposited him in a corner at the opposite end of the hall. Coughing away smoke, he opened his eyes and squeezed Amy by one shoulder. She returned the gesture, and he saw that she was watching him through half closed eyes. "Are you all right?" he whispered, glad to discover even now that they continued to hold each other close.

She was gasping just as heavily, and the blue of her eyes was brighter than it had ever appeared against the fine coat of grey-black across her face. But she managed a weary nod, even a smile. "You?"

"Will be… Soon enough." Julian's voice was softer than he'd intended it to be, and he swallowed back the foul tasting vomit that rose from deep inside him.

Footsteps sounded from far away, pounding loudly, running - getting closer with every second. _Badin_… _M'Pel_… Julian thought giddily. _Someone should go back_…

For a moment he imagined that it really ought to be him. But he was already numb, too tired and heavy to move so much as a finger. Every motion threatened, waves of nausea clutching like a fist at his throat and stomach, before long robbing him of what little voice he still had. There was so much more that he wanted to say, but words were slipping from view along with his steadily ebbing consciousness.

The footsteps were close now, accompanied by voices, shouting. Amy's hand had wrapped itself around one side of his head, pulling him closer, every one of her breaths as ragged as his own.

Enough words had been spoken - for now. Perhaps it would be sufficient reassurance, just to keep his friend secure within his arms.


	15. The End of the Night

**2348, London**

"Energise."

The tall Starfleet woman held on to Amy's much smaller hand. But soon the blue of her eyes - the last thing to fade in Jules' immediate memory - was soon obscured behind the much colder shades of a transport beam.

Jules Bashir barely stifled a yawn as his mother led him away from the place where he had watched his best friend disappear. He thought sleepily about the melancholy smile on Amy's face, and of how their gazes had locked just moments before the stream of light had vanished from his view.

He stumbled after both parents, following Lieutenant Dorian Tanner through the complex maze of the Security building. He did not usually lose his way so easily, but Dorian was the only one who had ever seen in this section of the building before now. The youngest of them was unable to stop himself from rubbing the back of a loosened sleeve across his eyes - which were still half closed even after he had taken it away.

"Jules?" They had stopped. And that was his mother, speaking his name. "Is something the matter?"

Stumbling a little, eyes closed nearly all the way, Jules shook his head. He mumbled a series of noises that even he was hardly able to decipher.

"Come here." Father lifted him from the ground, and the boy wrapped both arms around him, resting his head on one large shoulder. Father had never been particularly tall, but he was strong, and Jules sensed that he was secure in those enfolding arms.

It had been such a very long, long night. His head felt heavy, eyes now entirely closed and darkening his world to a uniform shade of orange-black. But this dark, he knew, was safe as a warm, soft cover all around him.

There were whispers in the distance - his parents saying farewell to Dorian - voices lowered to barely a tenth of their usual volume. Jules shifted a little at the touch of a hand upon his hair, and settled once again with a quiet, wordless sigh. Opening his eyes just under half way, he saw not the wide, foreboding corridors of the Starfleet offices, but a quieter, smaller, and far more familiar sight - his room. They had arrived, and the night had ended.

Father crossed the floor, carrying his son and placing him gently on the bed. Jules squirmed, mumbled a little and rubbed his eyes with one tired hand - but he was asleep again almost an instant later, only distantly aware that one of his parents had lifted a blanket all the way up to his shoulders.

* * *

**2376, Deep Space Nine**

Cold floor pressed against one hip, slightly painful through the fabric of his uniform. And before long, the same ache was forcing its way into his shoulder and chest as well. Julian was on his side, arms and legs bent slightly and arranged to steady him upon the carpet. _Recovery position_, he realised, suddenly alarmed. The floor of the habitat ring stank of dust and artifice.

He frowned, tensed, and gasped at the sudden cramp that seized all the way along the back of his legs. Dust surged into his nose and mouth, throat already burning. He started to cough.

"Doctor Bashir?" He sensed a new kind of pressure - a hand settling across his shoulder.

His first attempt at an answer was hindered by another bout of huffing, half-wheezing coughs - but he gave himself the time to expel the remaining dust from his lungs, and grimaced with the struggle to push himself up onto all fours. "I'm all right," he grumbled with barely a voice.

"That's a matter of opinion." A second individual spoke from behind him, her words hard and commanding. And he instantly recognised the clear, admonishing tone of Kira Nerys.

He forced himself to turn around, pushing aside the stabbing pain along his upper back, until he eventually located her face. Leaning back against the wall, he shifted a little to look her way, and cast her a poor attempt at a smile. It was not returned.

"What's going on, Julian?" the captain demanded, her eyes as cold as her voice.

He rubbed his head. "It was Badin…" he half gasped. "A bomb! He had a bomb. And…"

"Perhaps later, Captain." But he recognised that voice too, the first that had spoken to him. Doctor Tarses was looking at Kira, who for a moment looked barely able to hold back another fierce demand. But she nodded, stepping away.

"No. Wait - I have to go back."

"You're staying right there if I have to get Security to hold you down," insisted Kira. Julian returned her open scowl.

"But there are people in there. They might still be alive…"

Kira shook her head. Her voice now dropped in volume - much gentler, almost sad. "No."

"No?"

"We found their bodies, Julian."

A sudden shock ran all the way through him. "Amy…?"

Simon glanced over his right hand shoulder, where Amy Dowling was already rising to her feet, helped by a Security officer whom Julian didn't know. "She told us that you shielded her from the blast," he commented.

Their gazes met, and Amy smiled weakly, with the ghost of concern still plain behind her eyes. Somewhere nearby, Constable Ro had just stepped from the burnt out quarters, looking even less happy than Julian felt.

"You know her from somewhere," said Kira. "Don't you?"

Nodding, Julian grimaced at the stab of an unanticipated headache. "We're… We're old friends. Perhaps I should…" Pushing himself away from the wall, he barely managed to move a few short centimetres before he fell back against it, grunting in protest at the sudden flash of pain.

Glancing again at the display upon his scanning device, Simon Tarses shook his head. "What you _should _do is rest, Doctor. I'm going to have to ask you to lie back down again."

"…And you will." That was Kira, again. "Stay right there and let Simon take a proper look at you. I sincerely hope I don't have to make that an order."

Julian sighed. If he was really so badly short of arguments, then it probably wasn't a bad idea after all. Doing his best to shift onto his back, although silently wishing that the others hadn't had to help him, he closed his eyes with an exhausted smile. "Aye, Sir."


	16. Morning Breaks

Julian slept through much of what remained of that day, which he was quick to discover amounted to a little over four and a half hours. He woke to a still greater all-over ache, like the pain of unaccustomed exercise amplified several times over. Moving cautiously, grunting with the effort, he dropped to the floor and tentatively crossed to the place where Dax still slept.

There was a humanoid figure standing by the office door, but Julian was just slightly reluctant to look up towards it. For a moment, Simon's expression shifted as though in preparation for the inevitable discomfort of having to scold his superior officer. But then he stopped, looking awkward and scratching one side of his head. "Is there any chance of getting you to stay put for five minutes together?" he despaired.

"Of course," Julian told him, but then pointed emphatically towards the floor. "As long as you realise I'm staying right here."

Something was decidedly unusual about the glare that Simon cast his way, which did not quite seem to belong on his strangely boyish face. "Just don't disappear anywhere, will you?"

There was little danger of that. As long as he did not move too suddenly, Julian no longer felt as though he could fall apart at the slightest touch. The hours of sleep must have done him some good after all. But his muscles still ached like those of a brittle old man, and he doubted he would have gotten very far before somebody caught up with him, even if he had felt the inclination to try.

"Dax?" Leaning in close for a better view of her face, he stroked her hand with the tip of one thumb. "Ezri?"

It was true, he realised with a silent, hopeful gasp. So much more than a trick of the light. She really was beginning to stir, and her mouth twitched into a weary half smile. "That's nice," she whispered sleepily. Pale fingers curled inward to return his comforting grasp. With a groan almost too quiet to hear, she frowned, and after a seeming eternity finally blinked herself awake.

Seeing her eyes open half-way, Julian smiled as well. "Glad you approve."

Tears still trailed from their corners, and she was noticeably pale and weak. But when Julian called her name again, she turned towards him. "What happened?" she croaked, wearily.

"How much do you remember?" he asked - although he struggled to summon his own voice to the surface with nearly as much difficulty as she.

"I…" Ezri closed her eyes, swallowing briefly. When she opened them again, her expression was one of horror and alarm. "It was poison, wasn't it? _Julian_. Somebody…"

He nodded, saying nothing.

But then she frowned, as though seeing him for the first time, and lifted her head a little from the pillow. "Why are you wearing a hospital gown?"

"I don't suppose you'd believe me if I told you it was casual Tuesday?"

"Not particularly, no." The frown remained upon her brow.

With a quiet sigh, Julian lifted her hand briefly towards his lips. "Then I guess we both have a story to tell."

He wished he could tell her that everything had turned out well. But there was still the question of M'Pel - and even Badin. Regardless of anything that either of them had done, the thought of their deaths still haunted him. Perhaps that was the old man's real revenge, that he and Amy would always remember the triumph that had marked his face as he died, and add it to all the others rising from the very depths of their memory. Something passed briefly into Julian's eyes - the soft, warm moisture of tears too thinly spread to be allowed a chance at escape.

A hand reached up to brush across his cheek, and he looked to discover that Ezri still watched him. Her sapphire-blue eyes were much more focused than they had been just moments earlier. "No hurry," she whispered. Still weary, Julian returned her smile. Even if he'd wanted to resist, he doubted he would have been able.

"The important thing is, everything's going to be fine," he told her. "And now it's time to get some rest."

"I could say the same to you." Dax's eyes were slower to close, but Julian stayed to watch every moment, and resolved. Until the day's true beginning, he was just as determined to remain at her side.


	17. Full Circle

**2376, Three Days Later**

It had been Amy's idea. The two of them were to meet at Quarks at Thirteen Hundred Hours, a short time before she and her research team were finally scheduled to leave for the Badlands. "It _is_ a fascinating place," she commented, with the beginnings of a soft, throaty laugh. Which was true, Julian supposed. And his friend had passed quite a lot of time there, enough for almost every one of Quark's waiters to come to know her by sight.

Those whose names she had not learnt on her own, Dax had been all too willing to introduce to her. Julian smiled secretly to himself, remembering how Ezri's predecessor had developed a habit of staying awake late into the night, to exchange cheeky witticisms over several drawn out rounds of tongo. And his smile soon turned to an open grin when he thought of this outwardly timid woman - whom he'd met as a still more timid young child - being as fascinated as she was by such a disreputable establishment.

Amy sat at the far end of the room, where some of the artificial lighting dipped gradually into shadow, leaving her table only half illuminated. She was easy enough to find; this corner had rapidly become one of her favourite haunts. Not waiting to be invited, Julian slipped quietly into the opposite seat. She was right about one thing, he noted. This _was _a good place to meet. Easy enough to peer at the surrounding crowd, but not so exposed that it could not occasionally feel more private.

The professor glanced up briefly from a padd she carried in both her hands. "I took the liberty of ordering drinks already." There were two half-full glasses of something clear and green set together on the table in front of them. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." Julian chanced a sip of his drink. It was sweet, tangy - and tasted a little like the not-quite-blackcurrant flavour of those cough medicines his parents had forced him to swallow as a child. But he supposed the taste would grow on him, given time. It was not wholly without potential.

He placed it back down upon the table.

"So," he remarked. "Almost time."

"Almost time," Amy confirmed. Her voice was low as she finally set her padd aside. Trapped within a bed of a small-print text, the screen showed an image of a butterfly with large, elaborate, blue-green wings. Even as a still frame, it was easy to see the sheen of reflected light dancing across them, transforming their colour to a gaudy display.

"Are you sure you still ought to be going?" Julian found that he was asking before he could stop himself. "I mean, after…?"

His companion hesitated for barely a second. But then she nodded, tucking a wayward strand of light brown hair behind her right ear. It instantly dropped back to rest across one eye. "It's what she would have wanted, for the project to continue. And besides, it's what I want, too."

_M'Pel_. The name hovered between them for a moment, solid and unspoken. Amy seemed willing enough to forgive - at least on the surface. But Julian still wasn't entirely sure how to feel about the Vulcan woman's betrayal. Of course, he could guess what Ezri's advice would be. That he really should allow himself the time for his uncertainties to resolve themselves into some kind of solution. And that was what he swore to do.

Much of their research equipment had been destroyed in the bomb, and the ship's departure was already delayed. But enough of it had been stored off the station instead, and also in M'Pel's temporary quarters, to make for a viable expedition. And when she was not making statements to Lieutenant Ro, or taking every opportunity to discover still more about the Ferengi establishment, Professor Dowling had spent the past two days wearing her throat dry, in attempts to convince her superiors in the Science Ministry to allow their project to go ahead.

"I guess that means you're in charge now," the doctor told her.

"I guess so," his friend agreed, nodding. Amy's gaze was cast low, hair and lashes covering her eyes, and it did not appear that she would look up any time soon. Not without some definitive prompting.

Julian Bashir jerked upright as though from a sudden recollection. "Wait," he exclaimed. "I just remembered something…"

He reached deep into the pocket of his trousers, and placed a small, brown object onto the flat of the table. He'd been meaning to show it to her ever since that business with Badin Fen had finally reached its conclusion.

Amy took the package in both hands, and turned it around, studying it from every angle. The hard, transparent disc that encapsulated it was not so very dissimilar from those that she would use for her latest research. Her eyes narrowed slightly, their expression shifting from confusion, to a kind of quizzical amusement. And just as suddenly, she laughed aloud. "My god - you kept this?"

"Queen of the Butterflies, remember?" Julian reminded her. "And how could I possibly refuse a gift from my sovereign?"

Her next round of laughter was even louder than the last, and as it faded, Amy positioned the case between her glass and the upturned datapad. The object inside was dry with age, and had darkened slightly in the intervening years - but at the same time grown as hard as thickened bark. Many years ago, it had split open along one side, and a multicoloured creature had emerged from within, wings unfurling and drying in the sun.

"Perhaps our butterfly ended up becoming one of those," Julian suggested, nodding once towards Amy's padd.

"It would be nice to think so," was her reply. "But doubtful, especially since this species is only ever found in the Tirean System."

Julian shrugged. "So it's a little further from home than you might expect it to be - not impossible."

"Nice try, Doctor." Amy's smile broadened, growing decidedly less timid.

"I do my best, Professor." Attempting another swig of his unidentified drink, Julian noted that the taste did seem to have improved, if only by a little. "You'll have to tell me all about it one of these days. Perhaps on your way back?"

"I'd like that," Amy agreed, and for just a moment, he imagined that he could even see a shy, freckled, blue-eyed seven year old peering out from behind her smile. "A chance to catch up in less dramatic circumstances."

"I'm not entirely sure that's possible, Amy Tanner." He used the first name he'd known her by, the one from their childhood. "You seem to bring drama with you wherever you go."

"Oh, from what I've heard, _Doctor _Bashir, you don't need anybody's help in attracting trouble."

Julian held up his glass, barely able to suppress his open grin. "To trouble."

"To future adventures," Amy corrected him, and he agreed. It was a far better sentiment for a toast.

After the soft _chink_ of their glasses touching, and the uneasy slickness of the same berry-tinted liquid sliding once more down his throat, the pair fell into an easy silence. It reminded him of a time long past, when they were much younger, watching the city of London through the leaves of that sturdy old oak.

Their tree had been cut down over ten years ago, almost on the day that he had started his first year of medical school. Lives had moved on, punctuated in places by changes, new friendships, lost smiles. Last time the young doctor had visited England - how many years was _that_? - not even their old park remained in its original place. And now, in less than twenty minutes, Amy was scheduled to depart the station.

But it was the mark of good friendship, Julian supposed, that their silences could still be comfortable.

* * *

Ro Laren took a deliberate half step away from the Security office. "I may have something of interest to you." But she paused by the door even after Julian had stopped and turned in response to her call. And she didn't allow him the time to ask what it might be.

"We managed to apprehend the woman responsible for the attack on Lieutenant Dax."

_Ezri_?

Now he did approach. "Are you sure?"

"You said you would know, if you saw her again," Ro told him. "But there's no longer any need for that. She's already confessed to accepting payment from a man who introduced himself only as 'Emanon'. And that he was the one to instruct her in the finer points of assassination - and especially on targetting a member of this station's senior staff."

Julian swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. But the tightness in his chest felt more like rising anger. "Where is she? I have to speak to her."

"Which you may get a chance to do. Eventually." Turning a little to her right, Ro held out a hand to indicate the office's interior. "But there are still some important questions that need to be answered."

The doctor sighed, and nodded - quietly resigned. Really, this was not entirely unexpected. He'd given a statement over two days ago, but even that had been far from airtight. The only real surprise was Ro's delay.

"So now we know _who _were the culprits in this case." The Security chief waited until she had settled behind the desk before continuing. She squared her shoulders, meticulously folding both hands in front of her, and watched as Julian obediently took the opposite seat. "The only remaining question is, why?"

"What do you mean?"

Ro's eyes narrowed slightly. "It just seems like an awful lot of trouble for this 'Emanon' to have gone to," she told him. "Simply to target some random Trill he's never even met."

The proceeding silence was leaden. Julian pressed his mouth into a thin, pensive line and rubbed his fingertips across both eyes. "I have something important to tell you," he confessed. "But it may take some time."

Ro leaned back again, so slightly that the movement was close to imperceptible. "I'm listening."

"The poison wasn't in Ezri's meal." He sighed. "It was…"

"It was in yours."

Startled, Julian's attention jerked towards a narrow space beside the desk - which he knew was the entrance to the farther section of Station Security, the part containing a row of brightly illuminated holding cells. But he looked instead to the second Bajoran woman who now stepped through the door.

"Captain."

With her dark eyes hard enough to chill the doctor's blood, Nerys folded both arms tightly across her chest. "Did you think we wouldn't even check?" she challenged him, raising one eyebrow. "Lieutenant Ro is far more thorough than that, and incidentally, so am I. Now, I haven't yet seen fit to _order _any of my officers to talk. But I suggest that someone here should start telling us the truth, and I suggest _you _start at the beginning."


End file.
